


high off life, low on sleep.

by dontstraytoofar



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's 8, Ocean's Eight (2018)
Genre: Drug Use, F/F, Fluff, Soft Girlfriends, and you bet im taking advantage of that, the best part about this movie is you can literally ship anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 06:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14929250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontstraytoofar/pseuds/dontstraytoofar
Summary: Lou laughs, Debbie just launches a couch pillow at the other woman’s face. And it’s kind of how she wants to live the rest of her life, with Lou, an endless road, and 66 million dollars between them. Give or take.





	high off life, low on sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> god this movie....anyways watch me just write fic for literally all of them dont ask me WHY i decided on nine-ball and tammy. i think it was the scene with tammy laughing at something nine ball said in lou's apartment. that or im just gay and love writing women loving each other. 
> 
> anyways! title from the song inhale - duke dumont. hope you enjoy! comments and kudos super appreciated :)

 

 

-

 

 “So? Where are you going?”

They’re in Lou’s apartment, Debbie laying on the couch, hands on her stomach. There’s almost an unspoken agreement, that they won’t stay here, and neither question that they’ll be together. Debbie watches Lou pour two shots, the other woman walking from the kitchen and flicking her head for Debbie to move her legs.

When she does, it feels normal and nice and _warm_ when Lou just lets her lay them on top of her lap. She gives Debbie her the shot of tequila, holding her own up. “Not sure. To be honest, never thought we’d get this far.”

Lou smirks after saying it, watching how Debbie predictably rolls her eyes as they clink their classes together.

 “Wow, you had that little of faith in me?”

When Debbie takes her shot, screwing her eyes up as it travels down her throat, she then opens her eyes to see Lou with hers paused and raised to her lips; watching her movement with a raised eyebrow. “Sweetheart, you have all my faith. Speaking of, wanna put some in me?”

 "God, I could make so many innuendo’s right now.”

Lou chuckles at the other woman, taking her own shot so smoothly it’s like it may as well be water. She leans forward, elbow on her thighs as she places her glass down onto the table in front of them.

 “Come with me. A month or two, maybe more.”

Debbie leans up on her elbows, smiling lightly. “Is _the_ Lou asking me to come with her on a romantic getaway?”

Lou rolls her eyes, slapping Debbie’s thigh. “You _know_ I don’t do romance.”

Debbie scoffs at that, poking Lou with her big toe making the other woman raise an eyebrow. “Bullshit. 2005. When we went to that casino and you punched that guy for grabbing my ass?”

Lou opens her mouth, furrowing her eyebrows. “ _That’s_ your idea of romance?”

Debbie shrugs, laying back down. “From you? Yeah. But afterwards you ordered this wine that probably cost $500 for our room and just, gave it to me.” Debbie pauses a moment, there’s something soft about the way they’re looking at each other now, as if letting each other have a rare moment of vulnerability. Debbie smirks, adding: “You actually paid _real_ money for it.”

Lou leans back on the couch, arm slung over the back of it as she smiles. Her other hand is on Debbie’s leg, and she loves how Lou rubs her thumb softly over the top of her thighs.

 “Only because I won big in black jack that night.”

Debbie shrugs, looking to the roof instead of Lou. She still remembers how they got drunk and laid in silk sheets and she still remembers how Lou tasted; like cherries and wine and home. “Still,” Debbie breathes out softly, smiling smugly. “Five hundred fucking dollars.”

Lou rolls her eyes, shoving Debbie’s legs off of her and standing up. “Hey!” Debbie laughs, watching Lou as she folds her arms and grabs her bike keys off the table. She holds them up on her finger, folding her arms and gesturing.  
   
 “Well? You coming or what?”

Debbie smiles, chuckling lightly. “Yeah yeah, I’m coming. How much am I packing?”

Lou smiles, looks Debbie up and down and winks, and for god’s sake Debbie honestly thinks she’s dating a thirteen-year-old boy sometimes. “Well, hopefully none of us will be wearing clothes for the most part.”

(Lou laughs, Debbie just launches a couch pillow at the other woman’s face. And it’s kind of how she wants to live the rest of her life, with Lou, an endless road, and 66 million dollars between them. Give or take.)

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 “Wait wait wait wait. You’ve never smoked weed?”

Tammy frowns, cradling her drink in her hand. They’re at Nine-Ball’s bar, Constance and Amita playing pool behind them, laughing and throwing peanuts at each other. And the whole atmosphere is warm and Tammy _swears_ she can smell incense burning. There’s music in the background, something that sounds like Fleetwood Mac and Tammy blinks in surprise when she hears it. Nine-Ball somehow always surprises her.

She then watches the other woman’s eyebrow raise from where she is behind the bar, cleaning a glass with a towel and waiting for a reply. And yeah, okay, she _hasn’t_ smoked weed before but life kind of got in the way, so did kids, and Debbie, and owning an (almost) international scamming business in her garage while juggling with her husband coming home late, smelling like another woman with lipstick unashamedly on his collar.

So yeah, weed wasn’t always on the forefront of her mind.

Their conversation started when Nine-Ball said something about needing a joint after the long hours, then Tammy made an offhand comment, and now they’re, well, here.

The blonde woman sighs, taking a sip of her drink. “No, okay? Never had the…opportunity I guess.”

Nine-Ball pouts sympathetically, and Tammy has a thought that basically almost makes her blush. Which is: _Okay wow, she’s cute._

“Oh baby, that is _not_ on. Hang on, sit tight.”

Tammy, trying to not react to how easily Nine-Ball calls her pet-names, (because god, wow) watches as the other woman ducks behind the bar. The blonde woman leans over, furrowing her brows to see what she’s doing, and only by a fraction of a hair does she miss knocking heads with her as Nine-Ball shoots back up, grinning.

 “You’re lucky I remembered my secret stash,” She winks, and Tammy’s throat goes dry. “Here.”

When Nine-Ball holds it to her lips, Tammy hesitates, enough for Nine-Ball to pull back slightly with a frown. “Sorry, you not down for it or?”

Tammy rushes to reassure her, when did she suddenly get _this_ nervous around women? Or is this just uniquely how Nine-Ball makes her feel?

 “No! No, it’s just, uh, do you like, inhale deeply? Or only slightly. Because I mean I’ve smoked cigarettes before, _duh,_ but also weed is different and wow I sound so white right now but-“

 “Honey?”

Tammy shuts her mouth with a click, squeaking out a “Yeah?”

Nine-Ball smirks, shaking her head. She leans forwards, grabbing Tammy’s chin softly with her forefinger and thumb, and so softly, does she place the thin joint between Tammy’s lips; eye’s never leaving the other woman’s. It’s weirdly intimate, and Tammy can’t look away, _doesn’t_ want to look away.

 _Can_ she even look away if she tried?

Then Nine-Ball smirks, biting her lip, she lights it and coaxes Tammy to take a draw and when she does? When she inhales and feels her lungs fill up, her head already feels lighter. And Nine-Balls fingers holding her softly at her chin and jawline are so _soft,_ and when the other woman takes the joint from her lips, nodding for Tammy to exhale, Tammy feels like she just fucking ran a mile and a half with how her chest labours and her heart beats out of her chest.

 “Good?”  
  
Tammy smiles, doesn’t realise how she’s leaning on her forearms on the bar and almost sinking into the earth as she breathes out. “Yeah, good.”

Nine-Ball smiles, taking a hit herself, and blows it in the blonde woman’s direction.

 “Good.”

They share the blunt between them and Nine-Ball is so much better at hiding the affects, and when Tammy exhales a hit and asks _how,_ Nine-Ball says with a wink that “The trick is baby, I’m always high.” And it makes Tammy laugh and overcomes her with a sudden urge to kiss her, thread her fingers through her thick hair and surround herself with how Nine-Ball smells of vanilla and mint and leather.

It’s kind of exhilarating, and a confidence booster, that Nine-Ball is sort of looking at her like she wants the same. Tilting her head and playing with a lock of her hair that falls down the side of her face.

Then Debbie and Lou walk into the bar, breaking the moment, they yell something about drinks being on them because “This is a day to celebrate ladies!” but Tammy can’t really hear them because all she sees is Nine-Ball. How her eyes sparkle, how she grins, how her hands look and how her biceps flinch when she pours drinks or how the tattoos lining her skin are so fucking-

When Nine-Ball laughs at the other women calling for shots, Tammy kind of falls for her laugh. She places her wedding ring in her pocket, and she never takes it out.

 

-

 

 


End file.
